


He Grows a Garden

by Chromophilic_Daydream



Category: Persona 5
Genre: Akeshu/Shuake Secret Santa Exchange, Bittersweet, Flower Language, Grief, Implied Relationship, Light Angst, M/M, Several years after canon events, Tattoos, canon character death
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-05
Updated: 2018-01-05
Packaged: 2019-02-28 21:51:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,888
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13280571
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Chromophilic_Daydream/pseuds/Chromophilic_Daydream
Summary: They decide to go with camellias first, a spray of red and white and yellow. They remind him of Crow's original outfit, they bring him back to the Casino where he longs for things to have gone differently. They take him to the flower shop he used to work in as a teenager. The smell of ink and blood lull him somewhere far away as the flowers begin to take root in his skin and grow into his veins.In which grief blooms through blood and ink and promises.





	He Grows a Garden

**Author's Note:**

  * For [DistantConstellations](https://archiveofourown.org/users/DistantConstellations/gifts).



> I ended up being a pinch author and got to write for DistantConstellations and I'm so happy because they are one of my favorite authors! 
> 
> Thank you menthechocolat for betaing always!

When he goes to Yusuke with the request, the artist is quick to cock an eyebrow and stare at him as if studying him would answer the questions he is obviously conjuring in his head. It's uncomfortable to be scrutinized like that, it reminds him of Shujin all those years ago.

"May I ask why?" The artist pulls away from his canvas to completely focus on Akira when he comes up with no answers to that query just by looking at him.

"Call it a favor?" He asks, flashing a small smile out of nervousness. Really, he shouldn't be nervous. Yusuke is a friend and has been for several years after the Phantom Thieves. Yusuke seems reluctant at first. He understands, it's such a sudden request to ask of him. No one is supposed to know the artist had taken up tattooing in the last couple of years but Akira knows, of course. Tattooing proved to be lucrative, or so Ann told him over dinner last week when they caught up on what had been going on in Shibuya since he had been gone. 

"That's a rather large favor-"

"I have the money." He quips in response, not wanting to let his friend think too long and hard about this proposal.

"It's not money I'm worried about." The artist hums and begins studying him again. It makes his skin crawl a bit but he ignores it in favor of focusing on the irony of Yusuke's statement. In high school, it would have been a different argument. 

"Don't worry about me, I've been wanting this for a while." He reassures him, his lips turned upwards to maintain a smile. He continues talk, to reassure him that it was something he's always wanted, and only trusts Yusuke to do it.

It's a lie, but he's so good at lying about his feelings now it doesn't feel like he is making any effort when he speaks those lies into words.

Yusuke agrees and he feels happy for the first time in a long while.

That is, until he is actually on his stomach on Yusuke’s table and feels the first prick of a needle near his neck.

Then he is bound. His arms restricted behind his back, his breathing ragged as the world around him blots into a distortion of pain that rushes through his veins and bruises him. It beats him and tries to break his fingers, his leg, his mind-

Akechi Goro digs his nails into his neck and he can't breathe-

After that, Yusuke retracts his offer with a stern and concerned voice.

But that doesn't stop him. 

Through connections he maintained in his teenage years, Akira finds another artist. The one who did Iwai's gecko is still tattooing. He wouldn't care about seeing him in pain, he wouldn't care about the meaning of what he wants nor study him like some creature with a broken heart. He wouldn't pity him and that's what Akira needs.

When he presents his ideas to the stern looking man he gets an immediate approval.

"This is going to take several sessions." The man explains. Akira doesn't care. This was going to be liberating, this was going to break his chains on his heart in a way Arséne never could. This was going to free him.

"Just a word of warning... I've had bad experiences with needles so..." He swallows hard and finds his resolve. "Please just keep going, even if I-” It’s too shameful to admit but he knows the older man understands. He deals with yakuza constantly, he’s probably seen worse cases of trauma. 

The man nods without another word and they start.

They begin planting his garden.

Akira doesn't know how he manages through the cold sweat that accumulates on his forehead and his heavy breathing when he feels the needle piercing him at a high speed as the artist above him quietly works. 

They decide to go with camellias first, a spray of red and white and yellow. They remind him of Crow's original outfit, they bring him back to the Casino where he longs for things to have gone differently. They take him to the flower shop he used to work in as a teenager. The smell of ink and blood lull him somewhere far away as the flowers begin to take root in his skin and grow into his veins.

He closes his eyes and he can see him, just a dream away, just a few years too late. He reaches out his hand to Akechi who's back is to him but he is just out of reach of his fingers. Some ghost he will always chase, one person he was afraid of losing that died in front of him. One who was so very far away from him yet so close. He wishes he could still somehow take hold of him, just once more. It leaves a bitter taste in his mouth when the artist pulls the needle away and he feels empty again. 

"That's all for today, let me know when you want the next part." 

Akira wants it now, he yearns for it, but he knows he is spent when he sits up and feels exhausted like he just conquered an entire Palace by himself. 

He pays the man and leaves for the day, his sides sore for the next few days. He doesn't look at them much. His garden isn't finished.

The next time he comes back it’s with soft purple sprigs of aster tataricus references in his hand that would contrast with the camellias that were almost completely healed but still itch. The man takes it and mocks up an image and places the transfer so the previous flowers flank them. 

"Just these two for today?" His artist asks him as he cleans the area, prepping his skin.

Akira nods. "Just these two."

It has been a long time since he's cried about Akechi, though he always feels he is on the verge whenever he remembers him. It could be mundane things throughout the day and sometimes it's days, even weeks before he sees anything. However, when it happens it leaves him breathless but he doesn’t cry. The aster tataricus cause his eyes to sting with unshed tears.

That is the point of this whole thing, though. To remember, to heal, to cope with his loss. He may never see Akechi again but this way he will have him, at least a little bit of him affixed to him like he will never truly be gone if he grew this garden in his memory.

He needs the permanency, even if it hurts. Even if it itches so badly.

After this session, he is glad Yusuke refused his request to continue. His artist doesn't care about his feelings nor does he feel sympathy or try to make small talk. Akira can grieve over his emotions without idle chatter to distract him.

All he has in these moments are memories and emotions that tie him to Akechi and just how much he misses him. The pain is fresh as soil.

The next time he sees his artist, he presents lilies, angry and rigid with bold lines of orange. It has always been hard for him to acknowledge this part of himself that is angry still at the person who tried to murder him so long ago. This time he feels himself succumb to the darkness of the interrogation room in his mind, a damp dread that washes over him and shakes him as the needle digs into his skin.

Akechi is staring at him this time, smirking in a way he only imagined in his nightmares. It boils his blood and he wants to punch him, scream at him, ask him why he betrayed him. Akechi just laughs at him, mocking and cruel as he threatens to kill him, that he hates him.

The feeling is mutual. In his mind, he tells him and sees Akechi's expression grow softer, like a gentle breeze on a spring day that cools his anger.

"Do you still feel that way?" Akechi whispers, his voice echoes in the hollow of his chest.

"No, I don't." He answers, staring him down with a remorse that threatens to choke him.

"Neither do I," Akechi adds. "I don't hate you, Akira."

Of course he doesn't. It's because he is dead.

Akira leaves the cold studio with dried tears on his face. Those tears grow the most beautiful flowers. 

The next several months are spent with Akira working hard, taking on side work at Leblanc and serving coffee to strangers. He uses those funds to sow his pain into something breathtaking. He is slowly morphing his pain into a landscape of bright colors and sprinkles of pastel blooms that tap into his emotions he can never express publicly. This is his mourning.

The session in June is another difficult one for him. After almost a year of this, he is slowly running out of room on his back. It becomes a routine thing for him though; gathering seeds of his doubts, insecurities, and reflections on Akechi Goro and choosing appropriate flowers to forever scar his body like Akechi forever scarred him. 

However, the gardenias and morning glory take a long time to admit to. He has shuffled them to the back of his list far too many times. His back is now littered; peonies for Akechi's bravery, sunflowers for his radiant smile which came and passed so quickly, red amaryllis for Akechi's bolstering pride, hydrangea for Akira’s unspoken apology for not trying harder. Each flower crafted to express his regrets, woes, anguishes, and gratitude. 

But when he comes with the combination of morning glory and gardenias positioned beside each other, he gets overwhelmed.

It's hard to admit he loved Akechi. It's hard to admit he loves Akechi.

And that his love for him was far too brief, too undeveloped.

Akechi holds him while he lays on the table and rubs his shoulders where the needle pierces him. 

"It's okay to cry," Akechi reassures him, threading his hands through his hair now and he clenches his teeth.

"I'm not crying." He whispers and Akechi just laughs softly. 

"Of course you aren't."

He doesn't go back for a while after that, his love and regret now standing proudly against his pale skin. It is an honor to wear. His bond with Akechi may have been brief but it was long withstanding even years after. While he may no longer have a tie to his Persona, to justice, to Metatron, he has this now. 

It takes a long time to heal. 

Akechi's smile soothes him.

He works hard to gather enough money for his next few appointments.

In the meantime, his friends still meet and talk to him about their lives, he tells them his own, leaving the blooming garden on his back out of his conversations with them. The knowledge of it belongs to no one else but him and Akechi, after all. It is their secret.

He carries on until only the very center of his back is left. He is careful in selecting his final flowers but there are really no other flowers he is interested in using. 

The man takes the references from him and finally decides to ask him a question.

"Is this going to be it then? Want to do it all at once?"

Akira can only nod. "Please arrange them how you want." 

The man draws him the lotus to show how far he is away from the person who once tried to murder him, the one that in turn saved his life. Around the pink lotus were spiraling red spider-lilies, because the reality of his situation is that no matter how he longed for him he would never see Akechi again. To offset the melancholia, small bunches of bluebells to show that even though he has lost him, he will never forget. It is a reminder, a promise. But he stares at the older man in confusion.

"Why the roses on each end?" He asks. He didn't suggest this flower.

"Because you obviously still love this person, what is more symbolic of that than red roses?" 

Akira can't answer except for a small smile. This man seems to care after all and he is grateful for it.

Akechi would be grateful for it too.

It takes a long time but he manages to hide his tears in the crook of his elbow. Akechi doesn't say anything to him as Akira comes to terms with his undying love coming to fruition only to never be actualized.

"You know," The ghost in his mind whispers gently in his ear. "I'm never actually going to leave you. Our bond is still strong."

"I know." Akira murmurs back, though his voice is breaking when he manages to respond. 

"I never want you to leave, Akechi."

"You have my word." Those fingers return to his hair and Akechi’s warm lips are on his before the ghost in his mind pulls away. “We made a promise, remember?”

He frowns. “I upheld that promise though…” He murmurs and Akechi laughs at him. It’s not cruel, but amused.

“If you think that was the promise you weren’t paying attention, Akira.”

Akechi strokes his cheek with a fond warmth in his eyes. He loses himself to the imagined sensation as he cries harder now.

He gets it. They were stronger than a simple promise now.

The pain of the needle feels like nothing anymore. He doesn't sweat anymore, he doesn’t panic. He has transformed his fear into beauty. Now, he feels everything again and he feels  _ alive.  _ He is flourishing, and growing, and living.

When his tattoo artist cleans him up and wraps the new addition to his garden, he asks another question.

"Is there anything else you want? There's not much room in between the flowers but you still have a lot of skin showing." His voice is professional and cold but Akira has long since learned to read between the lines.

He thinks to himself and reflects. Everything in this tattoo meant something vulnerable to him, some piece of his perception on Akechi that is masked from the world by own pride. These are feelings he wants to protect more than anything.

"Thorns." He says without another moment's hesitation and looks up to the older man who just chuckles at him.

"They'd have to be dark and they'll cover some of the flowers."

Akira nods firmly. "That's fine."

"Then see me in a month or so. We will finish it."

The month goes by. The bite of winter is now fresh in the air but Akira's garden will be forever in bloom. No chill can wilt it. 

Akira lays down on the table for the last time. 

He builds a wall of protection around Akechi and his memory, his love and devotion. His bitterness and anger. He shields himself by sharp thorns that pierce more deeply than a needle ever could.

It takes a day but it is worth it to him, Akechi is worth it to him.

He is shown his tattoo and Akira finally takes it all in once it is complete. The breath leaves his lungs and he tries not to cry again. It's stunning, although red and puffy from the work just done on it. The weight of the world is lifted from his shoulders, the grief he has been through in his young age taken and crafted into tangles of bold colors and soft shapes. His pain painted into a mural of flowers on his back that means everything to him. 

In the mirror he can see Akechi, his warm eyes lightening as he smiles at him, genuinely and honestly. He mouths something Akira can't hear but he knows it's gratitude. 

He imagines Akechi never had anyone in his life, the least he can do is be that someone for him. He wants nothing more.

The garden is something he carries with him always, just as Akechi is something he carries with him forever. 

“Thank you.” He bows to the man who has been taking care of him throughout the year and the man waves him off.

“If you ever need anything else, you can come back here.” The old man shows him to the door and Akira thanks him again and heads out into Shibuya feeling whole, complete. 

Akechi now having his back for the rest of his life and he vows a new promise… to always protect that memory no matter what. He will be the thorns that ward off grief when it threatens to overtake him in the future. When doubt comes creeping in and when he feels like he cannot cope anymore, he can always look at the secret garden on his back and know Akechi is with him forever. For as long as Akira is alive, he has him.

He stares up at the sky as snow threatens to fall in the chilly December night.

“It’s a promise.” He whispers with a chuckle on the tailend of his breath. 

For it is a love that transcends the seasons, beyond ink and skin.

It is a blood oath that digs deep in his soul, forever in bloom that scarred his back in brilliant petals.

 

 


End file.
